For You Alone
by Joy Blythe
Summary: A modern retelling of Jane Austen's Persuasion. I will follow the book as best as I can, but I may take some liberties with characters and details here and there.


Anne Elliot pulled into the curved, brick-paved driveway of Kellynch Hall, conscious of how her Toyota Corolla stuck out like a sore thumb in a neighborhood filled with Porsches, Benzes, and Rolls-Royces. Appearance was always important in the town of Highland Park, Texas, more so for a member of the Elliot clan. After all, as her father was wont to remind anyone who would listen, the Elliots was a founding family of Highland Park. As far as Mr. Walter Scott Elliot IV was concerned, this fact alone made them royalty.

Kellynch Hall was another point of pride for Mr. Walter, as he was known around the town. He was always proud that the house had been the Elliot family home for five generations. Built before any of the other mansions on the street were built, each successive generation added improvements and modern conveniences to it. It was a grand, cream-colored brick affair, built in the French chateau style, with an abundance of windows, each decorated with gray shutters. Three gables peeked out from its blue slate roof. Wrought iron fences adorned the second floor balconies. And two imposing, white brick chimneys rose high above the old oak trees on the estate. The two red brick wings on either side of the main house were added by his great grandfather, necessitated by his quite large family. It may not be the largest mansion in town – no, that Kellynch Hall decidedly was not – but its historic significance and old-fashioned sophistication were enough, in the mind of its current owner, to make up for what it lacked in size.

Anne parked her car and glanced out the window at the familiar, dear sight of Kellynch. She had always been fond of the house she had called home for the first twenty-three years of her life.

She flipped open the mirror in the car's sun visor to examine her appearance. A pair of sad gray eyes glanced back at her. She sighed. Her looks had never pleased her father. Her face was too round, her forehead too wide, her cheekbones too high, her lips too thin. Her dark brown hair was straight and had been bobbed to just at her chin since she graduated from college. She thought the length framed her round face nicely, and the bangs hid part of her too-wide forehead. Her dad detested it. The only part of her face that pleased her dad was her straight nose. "At least your nose is not snubby like Mary's," he would say.

Poor Mary! – To be disapproved of by their father for the shape of her nose! But her younger sister had more than made up for her nose (and was now in Mr. Walter's good graces) by getting married straight out of college. She had chosen a most suitable husband, a fellow Highland Park native, Charles Musgrove. And while the Musgroves may not be as elite as the Elliots, they were at least a good family with a respectable history, and Mr. Walter was quite pleased with the match.

"This will just have to do," said Anne to her reflection resignedly. She closed the mirror and turned off the car's engine then stepped out into the warm Texas sun. It was an unusually cool day for early June in Texas.

As she was marching up the stone steps, the front door suddenly swung open. And there on the other side of the threshold was the welcoming, friendly figure of Aunt Charlotte, Mr. Walter's widowed sister and a surrogate mother to Anne since her mom died fifteen years ago.

"Anne!" exclaimed her aunt as she pulled her into a tight hug. "I heard a car door and thought it was you. Just in time. They're just about to start."

Anne allowed herself to be ushered into the house and led to the living room.

"Ah! Anne's here," her dad said as a way of greeting. He was sitting on a mahogany-colored leather armchair that was trimmed with gold, imperious as always, like a king surveying his dominion. He was wearing a ridiculously bright orange polo shirt and a pair of light blue checkered shorts. Anne thought the outfit made him look like a model pictured in the men's wear section of a department store. He was twenty years too old to be wearing a shirt of that hue. But Anne knew her father liked to think of himself as a young man. In Walter Elliot's mind, he was only approaching forty, not a man over sixty.

On the couch next to him sat Elizabeth, looking perfect as always. It was no secret that Liz was their father's favorite child. And it was no wonder. With her blond hair, blue eyes, and perfect complexion, Liz was the only daughter who met Mr. Walter's standard of beauty. She had made a successful career out of modeling and was getting her feet wet in the field of fashion-design. Anne could not understand why her beautiful, successful sister would choose to live at home with their father.

"I can't just abandon Dad," Liz had said, punctuated with a flip of her hair, when Anne tried to pry. Anne found it hard to believe her flighty older sister would feel such responsibility for their father, but maybe Liz was simply used to helping him maintain the upkeep of the house. She _had_ done it for fifteen years – ever since Mom died. Liz was only sixteen then and assumed the role of "lady of the house." Anne must admit Liz had done an admirable job at maintaining Kellynch Hall and managing the housekeeping staff and keeping up social appearances. Of course, in the first couple years, Aunt Charlotte had stepped in to help, but Liz soon grew tired of taking advice from their widowed aunt. She wanted to do things her way.

The problem, however, with doing things Liz's way was that she had no clue how to manage money, and their father was most definitely not a model of smart money management. Father and daughter indulged each other's taste for luxury. For many years, money flowed out like water from a leaky faucet. So Anne wasn't surprised when her aunt called her, about a month ago, and told her that her father was near bankruptcy. She was surprised that it hadn't been sooner. She was also surprised – pleasantly, she might add – that her aunt had managed to convince him and Liz that they needed to move out of Kellynch Hall, find a place that was less expensive to live in, and rent out the old house.

Anne now seated herself on the couch with her sister and exchanged cordial greetings with Mr. Shepherd, the family's financial advisor, who was sitting in the loveseat. John Shepherd had initiated the "intervention" to help his client sort out his dire financial situation in the first place, and he had contacted Charlotte to assist him. He had considered calling Anne. He had always thought Anne Elliot to be the only member of his client's family who had any sense – the only daughter to have inherited their late mother's prudence and practicality. But he knew the family well – twenty-five years of advising them would do that – and he knew Anne's advice, while respected and appreciated by anyone else, would not be taken well by her family.

"Well," began Aunt Charlotte as she settled into the armchair next to Mr. Walter's, "what's the plan?"

"We'll be moving to The Hamptons," announced Walter Elliot. "We have our little summer cottage over there. We'll just extend our stay a little longer this year than the past."

"Isn't it exciting?" exclaimed Liz. "Just think of all the beachside parties! Oh, and Mr. Shepherd, I hope you don't mind, but I've invited Penny to come with us. It will take her mind off Chris, the asshole."

Penny Clay was Mr. Shepherd's daughter, whose husband Chris had recently left her and their two boys. She was also Liz's high school friend, sorority sister at SMU, and fellow fashion model. Anne had always found it hard to believe that Penny was Mr. Shepherd's daughter. The apple had fallen very far from the tree in this case. Penny did not possess any of her father's academic smarts or common sense. In fact, Penny's talents seemed to lie in the area of empty flattery.

"Well, Liz, that's very generous of you," said Mr. Shepherd. "But…"

"Then it's settled," interrupted Liz. "And don't worry about the kids. I'm sure we can hire nannies to look after them."

All at once, Anne felt sorry for the two toddlers. How awful it must be to be abandoned by your dad and cast off to nannies by your mom! She stole a glance at Mr. Shepherd, who had grunted his consent to the arrangement. He wore a deep frown that had apparently escaped Liz's notice. "He probably doesn't want to part with his grandsons," thought Anne.

"What about Kellynch?" Aunt Charlotte interjected. "Have you found a tenant?"

"Yes, we have," said Mr. Walter. "He's called Dr. Andrew Croft. He came to see the house with his wife a couple days ago. Good looking man, though he's already got crow's feet around his eyes, and he's only forty-two. Happens with all MDs. I've never seen a doctor who didn't age prematurely."

"Well, we can't all age as well as you do, Daddy," crooned Liz sweetly. Then to the others, she said, "Mrs. Croft is a nice lady too. She absolutely loves the house. I'm sure Kellynch will be in good hands."

"Croft?" Anne breathed shakily at this point. "Did you say Dr. Andrew Croft?"

"Yes, silly," chided Liz. "Weren't you listening? Dr. Andrew Croft and his wife Sophia. He just got hired as the chief of – some department – I forgot which one – at Baylor Hospital."

"I was just – double-checking the name," Anne said haltingly. Sitting directly across from her, Aunt Charlotte had lifted a brow questioningly at her. Charlotte Russell was wise enough to not say anything in front of everyone, though Anne was sure she would be questioned by her aunt before she left today.

The others had continued talking about the plan – when Mr. Walter and Liz planned on moving out, when the Crofts would be moving in, the amount of rent the Crofts would be paying (which Mr. Shepherd approved of heartily). But Anne barely registered a word of the conversation. Her head began to spin. She could feel heat rising in her cheeks. She must get out, or she would faint.

"Excuse me," she gasped suddenly. All eyes in the room were on her now. She stood from her seat and, breathing heavily, said, "I'm sorry. I – I'm not feeling well. I think – I just – need some fresh air." And with that, she walked across the living room, through the hall, into the breakfast room, and out to the back yard - to the cool open air.

She made her way across the extensive grounds of the estate, to the little flower garden her mother had planted years earlier. This was her favorite spot at Kellynch, among the daisies and rosebushes and hyacinths and sunflowers. Here, she felt her mother's comforting presence, and she sought that comfort now. And with a gentle sigh, she said to the flowers, "In a couple months, maybe _he_ will be walking here."


End file.
